


Kept

by wood_originals



Category: Sons of Anarchy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Bathroom Sex, Blow Jobs, Character Death, Cherry Popping, Come Swallowing, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dirty Talk, Exhibitionism, Figging, Finger Sucking, Hand Jobs, Humiliation, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Multi, Needles, Praise Kink, Public Sex, Sadomasochism, Shameless Smut, Shower Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:20:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27286333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wood_originals/pseuds/wood_originals
Summary: AU. After Gemma's death, Clay needs to keep Jax close to the club and under his control. Jax is happy to be of service to the club, and all of its members. Otherwise known as: filthy, shameless smut featuring a slutty Jax as the club's kept boy. (The first chapter is just here to build up the world of this canon-divergent universe. After that, it just devolves into mostly stand alone Smutty Encounters Jax Has With Club Members.)
Relationships: Bobby Munson/Jax Teller, Chibs Telford/Jax Teller, Jax Teller/Tig Trager
Kudos: 18





	1. Build Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gemma dies a year after JT, and Jax grows up different without that support. When he doesn't have anyone left but the club, Clay is intent on keeping him under control and out of the club. He sees that Jax's true vice is sex, and uses that to his advantage.

When Jax was 12 years old, his younger brother died from his heart defect. He knew it was probably his fault. He wanted his mom’s attention all to himself, and he got it.

When Jax was 15 years old, his dad died after a head-on crash with a truck. He hadn’t seen much of his dad since Tommy died, so it was almost hard to miss him at first. Clay moved in half a year later.

When Jax was 16 years old, his mom got drunk and drove off a bridge. The cops said it was probably an accident. Jax thought she probably wouldn’t have gotten behind that wheel if Tommy never died.

He wanted his mom’s attention all to himself, and now she was gone, and Jax lost his world. He had to go through his dad’s old clothes to find something to wear to her funeral, because he’d grown out of his own black suit after his growth spurt in the summer.

The club house was so loud in its silence. Her arms were crossed over her chest, and her casket was filled with roses. Clay had tears in his eyes and he was grabbing Bobby’s shoulder to keep himself up. Jax stood beside him, eyes dry, guilt and hatred stronger than his sadness in that moment. All around him, he heard his mom’s name echo from the club member’s lips. Gemma. Gemma. Gemma.

The group moved to the graveyard. Back to the club house. In the parking lot. At home. Jax blinked his way through the day, rubbing at his eyes and blindly following the smell of cigarettes and leather. He felt something. Nothing. Everything. Empty.

“Hey, Jax. You okay?” Clay’s voice was rough. He looked confused, concerned, and he patted his cheek.

Jax forced himself to focus, to answer. “I’m… glad,” he replied. He was still thinking about the roses that covered her body. Roses weren’t cheap, but someone made that happen for her. It was dramatic and poetic and she would’ve loved it.

“The hell?” Clay demanded. He grabbed onto Jax’s collar, slammed him up against the wall. Jax felt his skull knock against the picture frame behind him, the sound of glass cracking, and he laughed, happy for the pain. Clay swore, slamming him back again, his neck rolling back and forth like a rag doll.

Hands pulled Clay back, and Jax fell to the floor, crumpling into a mess of shaky, crying laughter. Finally, someone was mad at him. Finally, someone pieced together that it was his fault. He looked up at Clay with wide eyes, and said, “Good.”

“Jesus Christ, did you hear him?” “Aye, aye.” “Listen, just—” “Did he say ‘good’?” “Just get him out of here! Get the kid out of here!”

Jax slept over at Opie’s house that night.

-

“I just don’t like the way they treat you, the way they look at you.”

The sun was setting, and Jax and Opie were chain smoking in the Teller-Morrow tow truck. Their elbows bumped when he reached for the overflowing pull-out ashtray and Jax shook his head.

“You don’t get it, man. You think Clay had to keep me around? He didn’t. If I fuck something up and they get mad, that makes sense. They’re going to teach me stuff, show me stuff. This is just, you know, how it works. You gotta earn it.”

Opie took his time replying. Jax could feel anger bubbling under his skin. He picked at the peeling cover on the steering wheel, waiting.

“My dad said it’s not right. He said people are talking about you there, Jax, and not in a good way,” Opie said carefully. Jax made a dismissive noise, but Opie pushed on, “He said that Clay’s keeping you under his thumb. Telling lies. Telling them you’re not right.”

“How’s that a lie?” Jax said, his voice getting louder. He twisted towards Opie, who was already starting to hold his hands up in defense, always quick to pull away from a fight. “Huh? Doesn’t everyone in this damn town know that I’m not right? You’ve said it, the teachers say it, but he can’t say it?”

“I don’t say it like that and you know it,” Opie said, determined but steady.

Jax crushed his cigarette against the wheel, flicking the butt out the window, and shook his head. “I know you’re all twisted up about the club and you’re trying to take it out on them. God, you sound just like her right now.”

“You saying something about Donna?” Opie’s voice went all quiet and dangerous, and Jax felt a little shock go through him. Adrenaline.

“Yeah, I am, Ope. You’re turning your back on the club for a girl, for your crazy dad, and you’re trying to pretend it has something to do with me, but it doesn’t.” Check for a smoke. Empty package. Crush it, let it fall to the ground. Flick the lighter. Focus. Focus. “They’ve been here for me. More than you have.”

“So that’s how you see it, huh?” He had the high-and-mighty tone in his voice that Jax hated. He flexed his fingers, forming a tight fist. “It’s just pathetic, Jax. I don’t know why you want to hang out there.”

“I guess it’s ‘cause they’re the only friends I’ve got.” Jax slammed the truck door as hard as he could, throwing his lighter back at window for good measure as he stomped up the drive to the club house. Opie laid down on the horn, and Jax flipped him off without turning around.

-

“Wait, Jax, wait,” Tara said, pushing his hands away. They were in the back of her dad’s car, parked in the middle of nowhere. The overhead light was dim and orange, but nothing could take away from the fact that Tara was the most beautiful girl Jax had ever seen. He pulled back a little, breathing heavy.

“Did I do something wrong?” He loved Tara. Beautiful, hurting, perfect Tara. She was a little bit rough around the edges, and people at school said her name like people at the club said Gemma’s name.

“No, not wrong,” she said, voice a little sad. She reached out and rested her hand against his neck, and then sighed. “I just… we need to talk. I need to tell you something.”

Jax shook his head. “No, no, no—”

“Please, Jackson. Please listen to me,” she said, stern now. Jax pressed his lips together, eyes flicking up to the orange square of light above them. Her thumb was brushing back and forth against his neck. “I love you. But I need to go.”

Jax kept his lips pressed together.

“My aunt, in San Diego. I told you about her,” she said, her words winding around as she struggled to say what she needed to get out. “She said I could move out there. I need to go. I can’t stay here, with my dad, with… all of this.”

He blinked, shaking his head again, remembering all of the times she lied and said she loved him.

“I’m leaving.” The silence bore down on them both, and after a minute, Tara shifted back slightly. She started to pull her shirt back into place, pull the zipper back up on her jeans.

Jax didn’t recognize his own voice when he spoke, the sound breaking and thin, “Please. Please don’t. Please don’t leave me, baby.”

“I don’t… I have to, Jax.”

Jax reached out for her, searching for the warmth of her skin, fingers pressing up underneath her shirt as he moved on top of her again, keeping her pinned under his weight. She shifted, protesting by the noise she made, the line that appeared between her eyebrows, the way her shoulders tensed.

Before she could push him away again, he pleaded, eyes wet, “Don’t leave me tonight.”

Tara left the next morning.

-

Jax moved into the small back room of the club house less than a week after Tara left, and had been there ever since. He paid his rent by working for the club, cleaning and beer runs and helping out at the parties, and Clay made sure he always had enough money to get by.

It was starting to sink in that maybe Opie had been right, that maybe Piney had been right. But Piney had left the club and gone off the grid, and Opie was married and working construction, busy with his kids and his job and his wife.

“You’ll be a prospect one day,” slowly became, “You’re basically like a prospect, except…,” which turned into, “You’ll always be allowed to stick around here.”

Jax wasn’t stupid. He loved the club and they loved him, each of them in their own way, but he knew in his gut they were never going to let him patch in.

He turned over in his bed, pressing his face against the pillow, trying to hide from the invasive streaks of sun coming in from the edges of the curtains.

He knew they were right not to trust him. His mood swings were worse than a girl’s, and he could get lost in a dark mood for weeks at a time. He couldn’t trust his memory, and his focus was shaky at the best of times. Clay had always taken the time to talk to him about it, be really honest about it, explain what was best for the club. He never blamed him for anything, and Jax had to appreciate that.

The previous night, Clay had come in to talk to him, standing by the dresser and looking down at him sitting on the edge of the bed. Jax always felt like such a kid next to Clay.

“You’re always going to have a spot here, and you know how much I appreciate you,” Clay said. Jax watched his hands as he talked. “But I think… you could do a little more to earn your place. For the guys, you know.”

Jax nodded easily, his eyes flicking up to Clay’s face. He looked like he was being careful with his words, something like concern painting his face. Jax said, “Anything.”

Clay smiled and nodded approvingly, clapping a hand on Jax’s shoulder, giving it a little squeeze.

Jax hated how much he liked that small gesture, warmth building up under his skin from the small touch.

He didn’t know what Clay meant exactly, but he trusted that he’d let him know. Clay led Jax as much as he led the club. For the most part, Jax was happy enough not thinking about it too hard.

The day went by in a familiar blur. There was a party on that night, so he spent most of the day cleaning, occasionally bumping into crow eaters and hang arounds. More and more people arrived as day turned to night, but the party only started when the club entered as a group, yelling and grinning and shoving at each other.

Jax watched from the corner of the bar, smiling as the family welcomed back their victors. None of the people greeting them really knew more than bits and pieces about what they were celebrating, but it didn’t matter. The guys were back, and it was time to forget about everything else and just have a good time.

Tig made a bee line for Jax, eyes bright and teeth showing in some version of a smile. Jax stood up from his seat to greet him and Tig walked him back against the bar, pressing in close. He smelled like smoke, like leather and the road, with something kind of acidic and metallic behind it all. Tig grabbed a handful of Jax’s shirt, and when he looked down, he saw dirty smudges of dried blood on his fingers.

Jax looked up, noticing most of the eyes in the room on him, but he focused in on Clay, who jerked his chin up slightly, a silent order. “Go on.”

Jax wasn’t stupid. His attention shifted back to Tig and he smiled for him. He tilted his head slightly and started walking back towards the bathroom, pulling Tig along with him. A burst of chaos erupted in the room, Tig hollering happily, a nearby crow eater whistling loudly, a congratulatory string of swear words in Chibs’ familiar voice.

People moved out of the way for him, a path opening up to the dingy old bathroom. Jax could feel the way Tig was sauntering behind him, playing it up to the crowd. Jax’s head was filled with the noise and the music and the presence of so many people surrounding him. He searched inside himself and didn’t find any nerves or repulsion or curiosity, just a feeling of rightness, of usefulness, of serving the club. There was a simple kind of pleasure in receiving an order and fulfilling it.

The door shut behind them, and Tig clicked the lock into place. Jax knew he was exactly where he ought to be.


	2. First Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tig and Jax alone in the bathroom. Tig wants to get off with the club's broken golden boy, and Jax wants to prove his worth and dedication to the club. He does that by getting on his knees for Tig.

Jax knew sex. It felt good, and he was pretty good at it, if the girls from town and the crow eaters were telling the truth. Even though he’d never been with a guy before, he knew what felt good to him. How hard could it be?

Tig wasn’t just any guy though. He leaned back against the bathroom door, slowly unbuckling his belt, undoing the zipper on his jeans. He watched Jax with a smug expression. “Do you know what you’re getting into, kid?”

Jax laughed, taking a step closer and hooking his fingers into Tig’s belt loops. He bit his lip and tilted his head just so and tugged Tig’s jeans down, lowering himself to his knees in the same movement, keeping his eyes locked on him the whole time.

“Guess Clay wasn’t yankin’ my chain,” Tig mumbled, pushing one hand through Jax’s hair automatically, grabbing a handful at the back of his neck. He shook Jax’s head, just a little, testing him. “You ever do this before?”

“No,” Jax said honestly, touching him through his underwear, feeling the outline of him, the heat of him through the fabric. “But I want to.”

Tig groaned, leaning his head back against the door and taking in a deep breath. “Fuck, you’re killing me here. Just. Here.” Tig pressed his fingertips against Jax’s lips. When Jax kept his lips pressed together, Tig jostled his head a little with the grip he had in his hair. “Open up. Practice round.”

Jax could smell the coppery scent of blood on his fingers, and though he briefly wondered whose it was, he found it didn’t really bother him. Tig pressed at his lips more insistently, and Jax opened his mouth for him just a bit. Tig pushed his fingers into Jax’s mouth roughly, and he could feel them scrape against his teeth.

Tig hissed and yanked hard on his hair. Jax gasped, his mouth opening properly, his tongue pressing flat against the older man’s dirty fingers. “See, that’s exactly what I was afraid of. I don’t need you getting scared and biting something off.”

His eyes stung, his cheeks burning with humiliation, and he panted with his mouth hanging open, not wanting to give Tig further ammunition against him. He let Tig rub his two fingers against his tongue, fucking his open mouth, wetting them with his spit, until all he could taste was the sour, muddy taste of blood and sweat and dirt.

“Good boy,” Tig said. His voice was heavier now, deeper, and when Jax looked up at him he was smiling in a way he’d never seen before. Wanting. He wanted him.

Jax wrapped his lips around his fingers properly this time, keeping his teeth from dragging across his skin. He hollowed his cheeks and sucked, tracing his tongue along the space between his fingers.

“Fuck,” Tig breathed. He pulled his fingers out, wiping them off on Jax’s shoulder. Jax watched him, licking his quickly drying lips even though he knew it would only make them chap worse in the end. Tig pulled his cock out, stroking himself as Jax watched the movement from up close, reaching out after a moment to push Tig’s hand away and replace it with his own. Tig laughed. “It’s all yours.”

The motion felt backwards, his hand awkward and his wrist twisted in an unfamiliar way. His other hand gripped at the fabric of his jeans, holding himself steady. He felt Tig’s eyes on him.

He leaned forward, his nose filling with the smell of his musk, all human, all Tig. He shifted his hand slightly to get closer, and he licked along the underside of his cock, tasting him as he wet the sensitive skin with his spit. He heard Tig groan slightly, his body moving, hips pushing forward.

Jax was surprised to find warmth building inside himself as he stroked him, spreading the wet over his length. He leaned in to lick him again, unabashedly wrapping his lips around him when he reached the head, tongue drawing over his slit.

Tig tugged at his hair, hard, and Jax had to fight the urge to bite down. He whimpered around his cock, the sound choked, and drool wet down his chin when he pulled away, eyes clenched shut.

“Shh, baby,” Tig soothed, his voice dark. He moved his hand to brush through Jax’s hair again, petting it out of his face a couple of times before he settled at the back of his neck again. “I won’t do it again, you just felt so good.”

Jax struggled to swallow around the sudden lump in his throat. He moved forward and took his cock into his mouth again, pushing away the strange, aching feeling that Tig’s words had triggered.

This time, he tried to take more of him into his mouth, careful of his teeth as he pressed closer, his hand still wrapped around him at the base. He felt his lips meet his fingers and heard Tig’s breath catch above him. He hummed around his length, pleased with himself, and heard Tig groan again, rocking gently into his mouth. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

Jax’s jaw ached and his knees were burning against the hard bathroom floor, but he felt good. He liked feeling stretched and filled and useful, liked hearing all of the sounds he could pull from Tig. He wanted to take his time.

Tig had other plans.

“C’mon,” he growled, pushing into his mouth intently. “Move your hand kid, come on.”

Jax stopped worrying about doing it right, or making it look pretty, and he started moving his hand in time with his mouth. He’d gotten enough blow jobs before to know what felt good, and he did his best to mimic those motions, listening to Tig’s ragged moans.

When he felt the heat against his tongue, he stilled, but Tig still had his grip in his hair and he fucked Jax’s mouth through his orgasm, painting his tongue with his come. Jax whined at the salty taste, the sudden way it filled his mouth, but that didn’t stop Tig.

Tig pulled away from him when he was finished, panting slightly as he put his cock away and zipped up his jeans. Tig watched Jax half kneeling, half collapsed on the floor, his mouth a thin line, until realization made him smile. Tig shifted down to crouch in front of him, putting his thumb on Jax’s chin.

“You don’t know what to do with it?” His voice was a little teasing, but not quite cruel. Jax nodded, his face going red. “Show me, baby.”

Jax couldn’t meet his eyes when he opened his mouth for him. He was full with his release, salty and a little bitter, pooling over tongue, as he fought the urge to swallow. Tig moved his thumb up and hooked it into his mouth, yanking his jaw open sharply, pulling his head down, and Jax felt the mess spill over his bottom lip, onto his chin and Tig’s hand, dripping on his jeans.

Tig laughed loud as he pulled his hand away, moving to grab a piece of paper towel to wipe his hand clean. Jax glared up at him. Tig offered him one too, shaking his head slightly in the approximation of an apology.

“Fuck, kid. You’re not half bad,” he said. Jax took the paper towel, wiping it roughly over his chin, his lips. He rubbed it against the spot on his jeans for something to do, something to look at that wasn’t Tig’s smiling face. Tig didn’t seem to mind, ruffling his hair on his way back to the door.

When his hand landed on the door handle, Jax struggled to his feet. He forced his sore legs to hold him up, and adjusted himself in his jeans, still half hard. He glanced over at Tig.

“You know, you’d be so much prettier if you shaved,” Tig said. He opened the door and all of the noise from the main room of the club house flooded in as Tig stepped out. He left the door open a crack and Jax could hear people yelling Tig’s name. Tig hollered back, quickly rejoining the party.

Jax glanced back at the spotty mirror over the sink for a moment, touching the short blond beard that he had been growing out to look like one of the guys, considering.

When Jax exited the bathroom and pushed through the groups of people to get to the bar, he felt Clay’s hand clap him on the arm as he passed by. His voice sounded faded in the crowd, but he clearly heard the words he said.

“Atta boy.”


	3. Tattoo Hangover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Jax gets his back piece done, he's completely emotionally spent. Chibs comes in to take care of him.

Jax always knew he was going to get the patch tattooed on his back. He wanted the world to know where he belonged, where his loyalties were. But that wasn’t an option any more.

Instead, Jax had sat for close to 11 hours getting a flock of crows in mid-flight across his back, black ink on pale skin, wings and beaks curving over his rib cage, his shoulder, covering him. The girl who did the work tried to convince him to get the piece done in two sittings, but he wanted it over with.

While he was there, he let her touch up the roses on his arm that he got a couple years back for his mom, watched absently as she went over a couple of the faded lines.

It was hard to believe it had been six years since his mom died. There were some days where he forgot to think of her at all, where it felt normal for her to be gone.

Jax was laying on his bed, back still covered in meat packing bandages and tape, his head pressed almost painfully to the side. The arm with the roses stretched out in front of his face, and he moved it slowly, feeling the pins and needles as he tried to figure out which lines she’d gone over.

Someone was knocking on his door, yelling his name through it about something or another. Jax ignored it easily. No one would even notice if he didn’t clean for one day, and he knew they were stocked up on beer for the week. They would leave him alone eventually.

He closed his eyes, let his mind drift off.

Minutes or hours later, he woke up, feeling someone sit on the edge of his bed, the dip in the mattress moving his body. He groaned, trying to focus his eyes on the outline of the figure beside him, his bones aching and his mouth dry.

“Ah, it’s alive,” Chibs said sarcastically, standing up again. Jax’s body automatically moved to try to sit up, to mirror his movements, and he hissed as his skin pulled taut, his fresh tattoo little more than an open wound.

Chibs sighed a little, his voice a little kinder when he spoke again. “You’re okay, Jackie boy. Just lay down. I’ll get you cleaned up, yeah?”

Jax didn’t know what to do so he nodded, and he heard Chibs chuckle. He watched him take off his cut, his jacket, his gloves, leaving the pile of leather on a chair pushed up against the wall. Chibs moved back over to the bed, rolling his sleeves up slightly, before reaching out towards Jax’s back.

“Just the tape, now,” he said. Jax felt him carefully pull up a stretch of tape, the air hitting his back. He slowly removed all of the coverings, leaning close to get the tape on his far shoulder. He had the same methodical movements that Jax had seen him use on the guys when someone got hurt. It wasn’t exactly gentle, but it was careful, and there was comfort in that.

“You’re going to have to get up to clean that off, hop in the shower.” Jax heard his words but his limbs were filled with lead, his thoughts pounding in his temples.

After a moment, he heard Chibs sigh again. The mattress dipped and he felt a strong hand on his upper arm, hauling him over to the side of the bed. Chibs pulled him upright and Jax had to grab onto him and blink a couple times as the blood rushed through his body, his vision getting dark around the edges.

“Sorry,” Jax mumbled, the only thing he could think to say.

Chibs patted his arm and started leading him towards the bathroom, flicking on the light and pulling Jax inside. “I don’t need that, just work with me here,” Chibs said, leaning Jax up against the sink.

He watched as Chibs turned on the water, checking the temperature and moving the dials until warm steam started to fill the small room. He turned back to Jax, glancing down at his jeans. Jax looked down too, momentarily confused.

“You going to make me strip you, too?” Chibs teased. Jax fumbled with his zipper and Chibs laughed, shaking his head a little.

Jax wasn’t exactly embarrassed, standing naked in front of Chibs, but something in the air felt different since he’d started… helping out the members. Even though it was mostly Tig who took advantage of his standing offer, the whole situation changed the way Jax felt when he was sharing space with the guys.

“Get in, kid,” Chibs said, nodding towards the shower. A simple order. Jax stepped under the steady stream of water, biting back an almost pained noise as the water hit the sensitive skin on his back. His knees threatened to buckle for a moment, and he reached out with both arms, one palm hitting the cold tile of the shower, the other hand grabbing Chibs’ shoulder.

“Christ,” Chibs swore, reaching up to grab at his arm, hold him steady. Jax felt a little dizzy, warmth and pain and a hundred other things swirling around inside him. Chibs manhandled him, turning his body towards the wall of the shower, knocking his arms up so his palms were flat against the cold tile, holding himself up. “Steady on, just hold it there, alright?”

Jax nodded. He liked Chibs, the way he talked. Statements and orders and jokes. He thought of the way some of the girls from town seemed to end every sentence with a question, always asking if he liked it, if he wanted it, if he wanted more. It was kind of exhausting, and it was the reason why he preferred the crow eaters.

He felt Chibs pull away for a second, and when he was back, he felt his hands against his back. A bar of soap was running over his raw skin, and then Chibs’ slick fingers started moving in gentle circles over his back. He let his head hang down and he watched the dark, soapy water at the bottom of the shower, watched it get clearer and clearer as the excess ink washed away.

The warmth and the water and the even pressure of Chibs’ hand on his back helped Jax properly wake up, the fog in his head starting to dissipate as steam filled the room. He felt himself start to react to the attention of skin on skin, pleasure building, his cock getting hard.

Chibs pulled away and Jax moaned, trying to bite back the sound as soon as he heard it, but he knew it was too late. He wanted to turn around, to see Chibs and gauge his reaction, but he froze, his shoulders tensing up. He gave Chibs a moment to leave, to get away from him. Would he be disgusted? Angry?

He felt his hands again, this time resting on his hips. Jax tried to look at him over his shoulder, but Chibs tightened his grip on his hips, repeated, “Hold it there. On the wall.” Jax turned his face forward again, the tile warm under his palms now. Keep his hands on the wall. He could do that.

He wondered if this would be the moment, if this was about to be his first time getting fucked by a man.

Instead, Chibs reached around him with one hand, the other firmly holding his hip. Jax looked down and saw him wrap his hand around his cock, start to stroke him. It wasn’t exactly gentle, but it sure felt good.

It didn’t take long for Jax to moan a second time, and then a third, his breathy and helpless noises echoing in the small space. Suddenly, every drop of water was a touch, and everything inside him was building up so fast, bringing him right to the edge.

“Come on,” Chibs said with a turn of his wrist, and though Jax could barely hear him over the stream of water, it was all the permission he needed to let go, coming in streaks against the shower wall.

Chibs pulled away again, and Jax leaned forward slightly, pressing his forehead against the shower wall as he panted, grateful for the support as he fought to catch his breath, legs shaky. He heard Chibs laugh behind him as he turned off the water.

“That didn’t take long,” he said. Jax turned to look at him and found him with a good-natured smirk on his face, holding out a towel. “Here, it’s clean. Don’t rub at your back, remember, just pat it dry.”

Jax looked him up and down. The front of his shirt and his jeans were soaked, and his hair was sticking to his face from the steam, but he didn’t seem annoyed at all. “Thanks,” Jax said, voice a little rough from moaning. He grabbed the towel and he felt his lips turn up into a smile. Chibs’ grin was contagious.

“Ah, don’t worry about it, I’m sure you’ll get me back,” he said, turning around to leave. He knocked on the doorframe of the bathroom as he walked through it, calling back over his shoulder. “And make sure you come out of your room to clean the rest of this shithole tomorrow, we miss your pretty face out there!”


	4. Second First

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time has passed and Jax has been passed around. Feeling a little nostalgic or maybe a little possessive, Tig claims one of Jax's last firsts.

The only light in the small bedroom was the moon shining in through the curtains. It cast a pale glow on the space, on Jax laid out on the bed, tangled in a light sheet. He blinked at the ceiling, too awake to fall asleep, too tired to move.

When the door creaked open, Jax knew it was Tig. He was the only one who came to his room when it was quiet. For others it was a crime of opportunity, in the middle of parties, pushed into hidden corners and dirty bathrooms. Guys from other charters who heard rumors and wanted to see if they were true, one and done to say they had the experience of seeing JT’s son on his knees.

Jax turned his head to look at him. Tig closed the door behind him, walked up to the side of the bed. He pulled a gun out of the back of his jeans, placing it on the bedside table, before he started to unstrap the knife from his leg. He grinned at Jax, cocking his head to the side, “Were you waiting up for me?”

“Can’t sleep,” Jax replied, voice scratchy. He turned on his side to watch Tig, turning his pillow over to the cold side. “Where’ve you been? Everyone else was here tonight.”

“Aw, were you looking for me?” Tig teased, an edge on his words, walking up to the side of the bed. He reached out and stroked Jax’s face, a hint of stubble catching on his fingers, and he patted his cheek a little too rough. “I’m sure you found someone to keep you company.”

Jax pulled away from the touch, swatting at his hand. “Cut it out, Tig, I’m tired.”

“Don’t get frigid, baby,” Tig said in a slightly mocking tone, looking down at Jax with that piercing stare. He started to unbutton his shirt, showing a strip of white undershirt under the dark blue layer, leaving it open. He rolled up his sleeves next, each move careful. “Remember when I used to tell you what a pretty little piece you’d make? You’d go all red, try to get away from me.”

Jax rubbed at his face with one hand, turning his back to Tig, curling around his pillow.

“Yeah, just like that,” Tig said, and Jax felt his face heat up, shame burning under his skin, annoyed that he gave him the satisfaction. He felt Tig touch his bare back, rough fingers teasing down his spine. “You do make a pretty little piece, Jax. And I had you first.”

He felt Tig press up against his back, his breath hot against his ear. “I want to be your first again.”

Jax didn’t know how to respond. The eventuality of getting fucked was never in question for him. From the first time he got on his knees, he knew what came next, and it made sense that it was Tig. Sex didn’t make him nervous, and he wasn’t nervous now, but he felt… raw. Like Tig could see right to the core of him for what he was.

Tig pulled back, and Jax could hear him kick off his shoes, the sound of his belt clanking open. Warmth started to pool inside him, his body shifting as his muscles tensed and he fought to release them, and he reached down to touch himself, lightly, figuring he might as well make himself feel good while he had the chance.

He expected to feel Tig push up against him again, and when he didn’t, he glanced over his shoulder, saw him standing at the side of the bed. He was rubbing against himself through his jeans.

“What are you waiting for?” Jax asked, tugging at the sheet that tangled around his legs, turning to face him again. The look in Tig’s eye unsettled him.

Tig tilted his head to the side and grinned, all teeth. “For you to ask for it.”

Jax scowled, shaking his head, but he felt himself react to Tig’s words, thighs tensing, fingers curling into fists. He fought the way his body was so quick to give in, refusing to give it voice.

“I can see you want it,” Tig said, his eyes running down his body like a physical touch. “You just have to ask. Don’t even gotta say please, you’re not in polite company.”

“Fuck you, Tig.” He tried to spit the words out, but they lacked venom.

Tig smirked and touched his leg, running his hand up to his inner thigh, fingers teasing underneath the bedsheet, and Jax couldn’t help the way he caved under his touch, his body pushing up to meet him.

“Other way around, kid,” Tig teased. He rested his knee against the bed so that he could lean in closer, wrapping a hand around Jax’s now-hard cock. Jax pulled in a shaky breath, his eyelids fluttering at the sudden touch. “Say it.”

Jax shook his head automatically, biting back a moan at the way his hand felt around him, the cool edges of his rings against the sensitive skin.

Tig tutted, pulling his hand back, rubbing it against his jeans like Jax was something filthy. He started to move off the bed when Jax said, “Stop.” Tig paused, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Don’t go.” Jax’s voice was rough, quiet. He couldn’t meet his eyes but he watched his face, focusing on his mouth, keeping the rest of his face in his periphery. Tig waited for something more, but when Jax stayed quiet, he moved to stand up again.

Jax felt his breath catch in his throat, choking him as he forced himself to speak. “Stop, just, fuck me already,” he said. He heard the pleading, desperate tone in his voice, eager for the attention. It made him sick, but the arousal still had a hold on him, overpowering the sour taste in the back of his throat.

“Ahh,” Tig said, eternally pleased, and Jax saw the way his grin stretched from ear to ear. “That wasn’t so bad, was it, baby? Turn over for Uncle Tig, now.”

“Don’t be fucking sick,” Jax said, squeezing his eyes shut as he turned around for him despite his words, bracing his arms underneath him. He heard Tig laugh hysterically, yanking roughly at the sheet that still partially covered Jax, wrapped around his waist, until it was left on the floor.

Tig grabbed at his hips, his thighs, propping him up with his legs spread out, his face pressed up against the pillow. He hated the way the air prickled at his skin, not cold just noticeable, pointing out how naked he was in that moment, spread and presented.

He felt Tig’s hands on his ass, spreading his cheeks with a lewd little laugh. He felt his thumb trace over his hole, press up against him, dry and rough. “You know there’s lube in the drawer,” Jax said, tensing up, shifting his hips away from the intrusion.

“There’s lube in the drawer,” Tig mocked, and Jax heard him spit. When his fingers touched him again, they were wet, slicking the ring of muscle, and he fought to push inside him. “Fuck, you are tight.”

“Don’t know what you expected,” Jax muttered into the pillow. His face was screwed up in discomfort, feeling the odd stretch of his body around Tig’s fingertips.

Tig pulled back. “What about by yourself?” he asked, voice heavy, dark. Jax shook his head, and Tig asked again, “Not even a finger?”

“Fuck off,” Jax said instead of shaking his head again, embarrassment running bone deep.

Tig let out a string of swear words, getting off the bed and grabbing the lube from the drawer. He climbed back on the bed and smacked Jax on the hip, hard. “Don’t be shy now. If I knew I had a real cherry waiting for me, I would’ve snuck in here ages ago.”

Jax heard the lube snap open and he gasped when he felt the cold liquid drip onto his skin. Tig let the lube pour down his crack, laughing when Jax shook involuntarily, a shiver running down his spine. He felt the touch of Tig’s fingers again, spreading the lube over him, before pressing in with one finger.

Jax muffled a low whine against his hand as Tig’s finger slowly pushed inside, the movement eased by the lube, he seemed to almost slip inside. Jax felt his body stretch slightly around him, until he felt his knuckles brush up against him, his finger fully hilted inside him.

“Don’t worry, baby,” Tig said, leaning in to press a kiss in the dip of Jax’s lower back, his facial hair rough against the soft skin. “I won’t open you up too much. I still want you to feel me.”

He pulled his finger out almost all the way, and then pushed back in, started pumping into him, fucking him. Jax didn’t know how to react to the sensation, it felt invasive more than painful, though that shifted when Tig add another finger, pushing in without asking, without pause, stretching him wider around the digits as he twisted and fucked his hole, opening his fingers while they were inside him.

Jax panted against the pillow, his eyes squeezed shut. Little noises were spilling out from his lips as he tried to catch his breath, taking everything Tig was giving him, knowing this was just the beginning.

When Tig pulled his fingers out, Jax keened, his body moving back slightly, following the movement of his hand. Tig’s voice was rough when he said, “You really are a slut for it, aren’t you?”

He heard the snap from the lid of the lube. The next time he felt something press up against him, it was Tig’s cock. He rubbed the head against his opening, teasing for a moment, before he grabbed his hip with one hand and lined himself up. He pushed in.

Jax cried out, helpless to the sudden way Tig filled him up, slammed into him until his hips met Jax’s ass, and Jax felt the zipper from his jeans press into his bare skin. Tig groaned, pausing only a moment before he pulled back. In, out.

Pleasure and pain were concepts that Jax couldn’t grasp in that moment, instead just feeling achingly, desperately full, that feeling flipping on a dime as Tig pulled back and he was left horribly empty. Each movement was a new shock to his system, pulling gasping sounds from his mouth, his body tensing and clenching and shaking.

He hated how much he liked it. Even when it was too much, even when it felt wrong, he loved the way Tig held his hips, the sounds he made.

Tig leaned up against his back, pulling Jax up with him until he was on his hands and knees, hair falling over his face. He had to lock his elbows to keep himself steady, which he did just in time. Tig bit into his shoulder, teeth digging into muscle painfully. There was nothing playful about the bite, and Jax felt his whole body tighten up as he yelped, trying to twist away from him.

Tig pulled away from his shoulder, his grip moving back to his hips to keep him close as he thrust into his resisting body a few more times before groaning loudly, fucking him through his orgasm, pumping deep inside him.

When Tig pulled out, he pushed Jax forward. His elbows gave out and he collapsed against his pillow, the air leaving his lungs in a whine as his hard cock pressed against the sheets. Tig chuckled breathlessly, sitting down on the bed beside him, trying to catch his own breath.

“God, that was good, baby,” Tig said, and Jax thought he could hear a smile in his voice.

Jax felt his slick, used hole clench and tighten around nothing, the terrible, empty feeling rushing in to fill the space left behind. His only distraction was the distinct pain in his shoulder from the spot Tig bit. He reached up to touch the spot, wincing as his fingers dragged over the indents from his teeth.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t break skin,” Tig said reassuringly, tucking himself away and doing up his jeans, his belt. “You probably won’t even bruise.”

Jax watched him from the edges of his vision as he stood up, strapping his knife to his leg again, tucking the loaded weapon into the back of his jeans. He ran a hand through his curls, rearranging the constant state of chaos his dark hair always was.

“Hey, kid,” Tig said. When Jax didn’t respond, Tig leaned over, tapping his knuckle on Jax’s chin to get him to look up at him. He was smirking. “You were real sweet. You did good.” He kissed the air towards him with a tilt of his head, pulling his hand back.

Jax couldn’t help but smile a little, and Tig took that as his cue to leave, with Jax still spread out clumsily on the bed, naked and flushed, cock pressed into the mattress and lube cooling on his skin. The door to his bedroom clicked shut, and Jax shifted to his side, wrapping his hand around himself.

The empty, aching feeling felt so much sweeter when he had his hand on his cock, and Tig’s words of praise ringing in his ears.


	5. Say Please

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jax overhears a conversation Bobby has with Clay, and he wants to prove a point to Bobby. He does it in the best way he knows, on his knees.

Jax overheard a lot of conversations at the club house. During the day he was like an old ghost, flitting around the rooms unnoticed, cleaning and getting ready for the night ahead. He wandered easily from the club house to the garage, a constant presence on the property.

He was wandering by the cracked open door of the garage office when he heard Clay’s voice, and he stilled to listen as he finished his smoke.

“It never would’ve worked, he can’t be trusted,” Clay said simply, stating facts. Jax was instantly hooked, curious to see where the conversation was going.

It was Bobby who replied. “I don’t know about that.”

“I’m serious. He means well, of course, but his mind just slips. He wouldn’t have been able to handle it, he’d betray the club without even knowing it, and that would be mutually assured destruction,” Clay said. Jax felt his heart sink, sure he was the topic of conversation. They didn’t need to use his name for him to know that familiar reasoning.

“We didn’t give him a chance,” Bobby said. “Not really.”

Clay sighed. Jax wondered if they’d had this conversation before. “He needs to be handled, and that’s what I do, what _we_ do. That’s why he’s so steady now. We take care of him.” Bobby tried to interrupt him, but Clay just spoke over him. “No one made him do anything. If he wants to do stuff for the club members, whose business is that? That your business? Kid keeps himself clean. And it lets him feel like he’s contributing, gives him a sense of purpose. Does it matter at that point who his daddy was?”

“Just seems wrong sometimes,” Bobby said, even keel.

“No one’s asking you to fuck the kid, just let him do what he wants, and keep your theories about his mental state to yourself,” Clay said. Jax heard his chair push back, and he quickly moved away from the door, tucking himself around the corner and out of sight.

Bobby’s words rubbed up against something inside Jax, a dangerous flicker of hope. The idea that he had someone fighting for him, even if it was a losing fight, twisted him up in the worst kind of way. He took his time finishing his smoke before turning back around the corner and wandering into the office, closing the door behind him.

“Oh, hey, kid,” Bobby said, glancing up at him over his glasses. He gestured towards the mess of papers covering the desk. “I’m kind of in the middle of it here. You need something?”

Jax leaned up against the door, smiling at him. “You’ve just been locked up here all day, I thought I’d see if you needed anything. A beer?”

“Hell, no, I’m bad enough at numbers to begin with,” Bobby said, laughing. “Thanks, though.”

Jax chewed at the inside of his cheek, rocked on the balls of his feet, thinking. Trying to figure out what he wanted to do next. He wanted to hug him. He wanted to get on his knees, take him in his mouth. He wanted to show Bobby who he was, say thank you, show his appreciation. His thoughts mixed together and he knew he was taking too long to respond, could see Bobby waiting for an answer.

And every second that went by proved Clay right.

“Yeah, no, sorry, I just thought I’d ask,” Jax said finally, smiling and shaking his head. “Catch you later.”

He turned and left the room, not giving him a chance to respond.

-

Jax never really sought out the guys. They came to him, and if they didn’t, Jax found a crow eater or a pretty girl to take up some of his time. And while sometimes he wished a member would come find him, do the work of picking him out so he didn’t have to pick out a girl, he never really had a preference on who that was.

It was a while before Jax realized he was waiting for Bobby. He didn’t have a thing for him or anything, he just wanted it one time. Like a show of respect.

He kept an eye on him during parties, making sure he always had another beer ready or an ashtray at hand. When that didn’t work, he started sticking close to him, wondering if convenience would bring Bobby to him.

Nothing.

When Jax saw Bobby slip out of a party early one night, he followed him. He headed back to the small garage office, setting himself up at the desk constantly covered in papers, glasses on and concerned crease between his eyebrows.

Jax knocked on the door before letting himself in, closing the door behind him. Bobby turned around in the chair, surprised. “Hey—”

Before he could say anything else, Jax walked up to him and eased himself down to his knees in front of him. He reached up and touched Bobby’s legs, leaning forward slightly.

“No, kid, no, you don’t gotta—”

“Please?” Jax asked, almost pleaded, looking up at him for the first time. He tilted his head to the side, felt the warmth in his cheeks from how sincerely he wanted it, but he kept his gaze steady.

Bobby groaned and leaned back slightly, and Jax took that as allowance, running his hands up his thighs to open his belt, his jeans, his hands working expertly at his task. He pulled the length of his cock out from the confines of the fabric, tracing over him with gentle touches as he stroked him, getting a feel for him in his hand. He was bigger than Jax expected.

He didn’t mean to talk. His mouth was better at other things. But words started tumbling out.

“I want this, okay? I want you. I want the club. I like it and I’m good at it and I want it,” he said in a rush, breath coming out in warm puffs. He leaned in, licking along the underside of him with the flat of his tongue, wetting his shaft with his spit. Bobby groaned again, and he was properly hard now.

Jax wondered how it would feel to have someone that big fuck him one day.

“I like being handled,” Jax said, breathless. He watched how he reacted, changed his hand movements to suit his preferences, locking them away in his memory the way he did with all the guys, until he was set in a comfortable rhythm that had Bobby breathing heavy. “It feels good, it feels so damn good.”

“Jackson…” Bobby said, voice rough, and Jax couldn’t take it. Hearing his full name, with the caring in his tone, was too much. He didn’t want him to tell him to stop, so he leaned in and wrapped his lips around his head, swirling his tongue and tasting him fully.

Bobby moaned, both of his hands reaching out and tangling in Jax’s hair, not holding a grip on him like Tig would, just resting against him, letting Jax control his own movements. Jax did his best to take more and more of him into his mouth, continuing to stroke him as he worked. He breathed in deep, his nose filling with the smell of warmth and sex and Bobby’s cologne that had just a hint of something sweet, vanilla and leather and musk.

Jax mewled softly around him, feeling the sound vibrate through him, and he felt Bobby shudder from the sensation.

His jaw ached, and it was hard to keep his teeth from touching the sensitive skin as he hollowed his cheeks around him, moving up and down over him, his hand still stroking dutifully as spit leaked from the seal of his lips around his cock. Jax wanted to try to take him in deeper but he was afraid of choking, afraid that would put a stop to everything, so he erred on the side of caution, using his hand as best he could to make up for what his mouth couldn’t reach.

Jax felt Bobby start to rock into his mouth, could hear him panting now. His jaw ached in the best kind of way, of a job well done, and he could feel himself getting hard as he pushed Bobby to the edge. His cock rocked closer and closer to the back of his throat, going far enough back that Jax tensed with every pulse of motion, the feeling bringing Jax closer to his own release.

He felt Bobby tug on his hair, and Jax looked up, worried for a moment before he saw the expression of pleasure building on his face. Jax couldn’t help but moan, and as the sound vibrated through his cock, Bobby came for him. Jax felt the pulsing heat against his tongue, and he pulled back just a little as his cum painted his tongue, filled him up. He worked him through his orgasm, careful to keep his lips tight around him, so that when he was finished and Jax pulled away with a wet pop, he knew he left him clean.

Jax looked up at Bobby with red, aching lips and swallowed, his own breath shaky as he tried to steady himself, cock tenting in his jeans.

“Fuck,” Bobby said, rubbing at his eyes with one hand and shaking his head. Jax felt a little proud at that, smile turning into a smirk as he watched him try to recover.

He pushed back, giving himself room to stand up, and adjusted himself in his jeans but did nothing to hide his arousal. He saw Bobby look him over, rest for a minute on the outline of his cock through his jeans.

“Just… know you can come find me any time,” Jax said, brushing a hand through his mussed hair, fixing it only slightly before he walked to the door.

“Jax,” Bobby said. Jax hovered in the doorway, looking back at him. It took Bobby a minute to find the right words. He finally said, “You good?”

Jax laughed and nodded. “Jesus, yeah, Bobby, I’m good.” He leaned his forehead against the door frame for a moment, trying futilely to leave it at that, to walk away all cool. Instead, he added, words spilling from his lips, “Just, take advantage of my offer some time, alright? I like a challenge.”

Jax’s face burned with embarrassment as he walked away, but he heard Bobby laugh as he made his way back to the club house, and he couldn’t help but feel a little pleased with himself.


	6. Riding Bitch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chibs wants to let Jax feel something new, and takes him for a ride. Jax falls apart so sweetly for him.

It was a Thursday afternoon when Chibs came up behind Jax, threw an arm over his shoulder, and asked against his ear, “You busy?”

It was just the two of them in the club house, and Jax had to brace against the counter to hold himself up at the sudden addition of his weight. He laughed, “Depends. What do you want to ask me to do?”

“Augh,” Chibs said dramatically, leaning back and grasping at his wounded heart. “So little faith. I was going to ask you out for a ride. But it’s fine, it’s fine.”

“Wait, really?” Jax said, perking up. He loved riding, and he was never allowed to go out with the guys. Just because he understood why he couldn’t didn’t mean he wanted it any less.

“Yeah, I had a little idea for you, but you’ll have to ride bitch,” Chibs said with a smirk. Jax frowned and glared at him, and Chibs added, “Only because I don’t want you crashing.”

“I know how to ride,” Jax argued, annoyed now. Normally he didn’t mind Chibs teasing him, but he was going a little far.

Chibs sighed and shoved at Jax, getting up from the bar stool and walking back towards Jax’s room. “You idiot. I know you can ride. I told you I had something for you.”

Jax hopped up and followed him, curiosity beating out annoyance, following two steps behind as Chibs led him back to his own bedroom. Once they were both inside, Chibs walked Jax back against the closed door, working open his jeans easily.

“Turn around. Put your hands up on the door,” Chibs ordered. Jax felt his face warm up as he turned around for him, palms flat against the cold wood. Chibs pressed up behind him, his hands moving down his sides to pull down Jax’s jeans, his underwear.

Chibs voice was low, rumbling next to his ear, his body close. “I’m not going to use lube, but I’ll go slow. Okay?”

Jax felt his breath hitch in his chest, and he shook his head a little, nerves bubbling up under his skin. So far, the only person to fuck him was Tig, and Jax couldn’t imagine it without lube. His throat felt tight but he forced himself to say, “I—I don’t know if I can do that, I haven’t… done it a lot and it’s—I’m still… tight. There.”

Chibs laughed, and Jax felt his face start to burn. He felt hands spread his cheeks open, and Chibs traced his thumb down, finding his hole. “I’m not going to fuck you, Jackie boy. Not yet.”

Jax could barely keep up with what was happening. Chibs pulled his hands back and Jax heard a rustling noise as Chibs pulled something out. Jax felt the tip of something slightly cold touch his skin, and Chibs used the object to trace a pattern across his skin. “It’s not that big, yeah? But I promise you’ll feel it.”

“What is it?” Jax asked, and in response he felt the tip of the object move to press against his hole, and he tried his best not to tense up as Chibs started to push it in, one hand rubbing at his hip.

“Shh, now, just feel it,” Chibs said, rough and low and right against his neck. “You can do it.”

A strange burning sensation started to build up inside him. His lips, which were previously pulled together in a tight line, split open, and breathy, whiny noises started to spill out of him. His palms on the door turned into fists and he squirmed in place, Chibs’ hand on his hip keeping him steady. Soon he felt his hand on his other hip, and he knew the object was fully inside him now, the rough base of it resting against the ring of muscle.

“You can take it, love, you can do it,” Chibs repeated, and Jax felt him close against his back, his thumbs rubbing soft, comforting circles over his hip bones, as the feeling continued to build. It was more than just burning, it was pressure, pain, building inside of him.

“Please,” Jax whined the word between desperate, wordless mewls. “I’m sorry, I can’t, I can’t.”

The feeling pushed every thought from his head, focused so wholly by the burning.

Chibs shushed him again, pressing a kiss to his neck, squeezing his hips slightly. “Just one more minute, lad, I promise you can take it. Do it for me.”

Jax would do anything for him.

Soon, the sounds stopped, and Jax was left panting into the open air. The burning feeling persisted, just as strong, but as the sensation steadied, Jax was able to let his body accept it, adjust to it.

It hurt. It was too much. But he could take it.

“There you go,” Chibs said proudly, patting Jax on the hip. Jax made a small noise, self-consciousness the furthest thing from his mind as he let the older man’s words wash over him. He felt his hands pulling up his pants, doing up the zipper and the button, tugging his shirt down from where it got pulled up. Sweat stuck his hair to the back of his neck, made the fabric of his t-shirt cling to his skin, but Chibs didn’t seem to mind that.

“What is it?” Jax mumbled, letting himself stay leaning against the door, breathing steady now.

Jax could hear his smile. “It’s just a bit of ginger, nothing unnatural. An old trick I learned. So, you wanna go for a ride?”

-

Climbing on the back of another man’s bike was a sensation almost as strange as the intense burning inside him. He knew there were eyes on him, people milling around the garage, but he couldn’t find it in him to care.

Jax settled in, biting back pathetic noises as the plug shifted inside him, and reached out with one hand to hold on to Chibs’ waist, keeping a space between them.

“Where are we going?” Jax asked, half yelled as Chibs started up his bike, the roar threatening to drown out his words.

“Haven’t you heard it’s not about the destination?” Chibs replied, revving the engine as he pulled out of his spot. When he paused to turn out of the driveway, he yelled back to him, “Just don’t fall off.”

Jax quickly realized what Chibs meant as he drove over the slight bump to get onto the road and the bike moved underneath him. He tensed up, clenching around the ginger plug, and the burning flared up so much stronger. He reached out with his free hand to grab hold of Chibs waist on the other side, his gasp lost in the wind rushing past them.

It was hard to pay attention where they were going. As far as Jax could tell, Chibs was finding every old, bumpy road he could, which was easy enough in a small town like Charming. All of his focus was on the back of Chibs’ neck, trying to keep himself steady. There was nothing he could do to stop his body from reacting, so he just had to ride out the pulsing sensations as he tightened and relaxed against the plug.

Jax hoped that all of the desperate noises he was making were lost in the rush of the wind, not wanting to give Chibs the satisfaction, still keeping a space between their bodies though he clenched on to Chibs’ jacket so tight his knuckles were bone white.

Impossibly, eventually, the burning started to ease up. Jax was able to keep his mouth shut, stop himself from making noises. He started to look around, and he realized they were just at the edge of town.

Jax was finally getting his bearing back as Chibs pulled into a gas station, and Jax welcomed the moment of rest. He let his eyes close briefly as he felt Chibs dismount, and he leaned back in his seat, stretching out his stiff fingers. The moment didn’t last for long as Chibs grabbed the font of his shirt and hauled him off the bike.

“Follow me,” Chibs said with an intensity that shocked Jax after his playful attitude earlier, and he dutifully followed the older man back towards the filthy rest room. Jax paused near the door and Chibs pushed him inside, following him into the cramped, damp space and locking the door behind them.

Chibs nodded at him, pulling his gloves off slowly. “Pants down, turn around with your hands on the sink, bend over for me,” he ordered simply.

Jax paused. Something like fear kept him frozen until he remembered that this was Chibs, and he told himself to have faith. He turned around, unzipping his jeans and pushing them down to just above his knees before he grabbed onto the dirty, cold ledge of the sink.

“Good lad,” Chibs said, and Jax felt a flush spread across his chest from the praise, shifting his weight back and forth between his feet nervously.

He felt Chibs grab the base of the ginger, twisting it and easing it from his body. Despite the fact that it wasn’t burning him in the same way, he still felt raw, oversensitive from the onslaught of sensation, and he whined as the tapered object was pulled from his body. Jax bit back a whine.

“Christ, I didn’t think you’d be so sensitive _and_ so stubborn,” Chibs said out loud, not so much talking to Jax as making an observation. “I was going to fuck you, but…”

“Please,” Jax interrupted him, the choked word hitting the air before Jax knew what was happening.

There was a pause. Chibs reached out with one hand, resting on Jax’s hip. Slowly, his touch curved around his body and wrapped around his hard cock, straining in anticipation. Chibs laughed, giving him a little squeeze before he pulled away.

“You act cold but you’re desperate for it, hm?” he asked, voice low, his accent and his arousal slurring his words together into a purr. Jax heard Chibs moving behind him, and the next touch he felt was rough hands spreading his ass, lubed fingers pressing against the entrance of his raw hole.

Jax whimpered helplessly, his body rocking against the touch, and Chibs chuckled at his eagerness. He pushed in with two slick fingers, fucking him with the digits, opening him up as he pushed in and out, a little too rough but also exactly what Jax needed in that moment. He rocked back against his fingers, taking everything Chibs had to give him.

Too soon, Chibs pulled his fingers away, wiping the lube off on Jax’s hip. He heard the snap of the bottle of lube opening again, and the next thing he felt was the head of Chibs’ cock pressing insistently against his entrance, thick and hot. Jax pushed back against him, wanting to feel him, and Chibs was happy to oblige his desperation.

He pushed in, almost too fast, and Jax moaned as he felt him fill him up, forcing him open around his cock. The sound echoed in the small, tiled room, and Jax felt himself burning all over now, his face and his chest bright from the embarrassment of his whorish sounds, the wanton way he was bent over the sink. The burn of embarrassment mirrored the memory of the burn in his hole, the ghost of it still aching around Chibs’ cock.

Chibs got a grip of Jax’s shirt and started to fuck him. Skin slapped against skin as he used him, rough and deep. His cock teased against the spot inside Jax that made his knees go weak, just enough to feel it on each thrust but not enough to bring him to his own release.

All Jax felt in that moment was a sense of rightness, feeling certain he was meant to be here, meant to be used like this. The way Chibs’ pulled on his shirt rubbed against his nipples, and he moaned, basking in the heat of his own humiliation, the way it urged Chibs to fuck him harder.

It didn’t take long to hear Chibs groan, his movements off rhythm as he came, working himself through his orgasm, pleasure pulsing through him as he came deep inside him. Jax whined as he felt him fill him up with his heat as Chibs finished up and finally pulled out of him.

Jax heard a small noise as he caught his breath, adjusted to the empty feeling, and he glanced over his shoulder at Chibs. He saw him pull a knife from its sheath strapped to his leg. “What are you doing?” Jax asked. He didn’t mean to sound as nervous as he did.

Chibs held up a small, tapered object and it took Jax a moment to realize this was what had been inside him on the ride here, a piece of ginger carved into a plug, the root skinned down to its base. Chibs used his knife to carefully peel off a layer of the ginger, leaving the waste on the ground between them.

“Just freshening it up for the trip home,” Chibs said as Jax watched him, mouth open. He gripped on to the sink tight, his cock twitching slightly, as he realized what was about to happen.

Jax felt raw and sensitive and scared, but he didn’t protest as he watched Chibs quickly finish his work, he didn’t fight it as he felt the ginger press up against his hole, still slick with lube. The burning was back in an instant, fresh and sharp as Chibs easily slid the object inside him to its base.

Too much. Everything was too much. Jax focused on keeping his grip to the sink, his body shaking, almost convulsing, as he fought to adjust to the extreme sensation built to an almost intolerable level.

“Shh,” Chibs soothed, and Jax keened as he felt his warm hands on his hips, moving down to pull up his underwear and jeans again, adjusting his still-hard cock as best he could as he zipped him up, taking care of him as he was drowning in the feeling, feeling, feeling.

When he was presentable again, Chibs stayed close, rubbing up and down his back, working him through the initial minutes of building pain until the burning reached its climax and Jax could breathe again.

Chibs pulled Jax up and turned him around to look him in the eyes, brushing his hair out of his face. “Do you think you can stay on my bike or do I need to leave you here?” he asked simply, his words not cruel, just factual.

Jax nodded his head, pulling in a shaky breath. His voice sounded small. “I… can stay on your bike.”

“Come on, then,” Chibs said, pulling on his gloves and stepping out from the bathroom. The change from the fluorescent lights to the sun blinded Jax for a moment, and he followed the sound of Chibs’ boots in the dirt back to his bike.

-

The ride back to the club house went by in a blur. Jax made no pretense about keeping his distance this time, wrapping his arms around Chibs’ waist and pressing up close, rocking his cock against his back as the ginger plug burned inside him. He moaned and whined and mewled until his throat felt raw, pressing the sounds against Chibs’ cut, panting wet against the worn leather.

Jax only realized they were back at the club house when they stopped, and Chibs nudged him back with his shoulder. “You gotta get off so I can park, kid.”

Jax climbed off the bike stiffly, wishing he had something to lean against, somewhere to curl up. He had a feeling that Chibs took a quicker route back as the burning was still going strong, keeping his thoughts from his head, keeping the world at a distance.

Chibs’ was off his bike now, taking Jax’s helmet from him and resting it on the seat. He grabbed Jax’s arm and steered him back to the club house. Jax was grateful for the help. He was eager to get back to his bed, to ease the plug from his body and finally get himself off.

He didn’t expect Chibs to follow him into his room.

Chibs pushed Jax down to sit on the edge of his bed, and then knelt down in front of him. Jax watched him, confused, as he reached out for his jeans again. He worked the stiff fabric open and pulled out his cock, pre-cum leaking from the slit. Jax whimpered, shook his head, and reached out to try to push Chibs back weakly, “No, fuck, it’s okay, you don’t have to—”

“Just feel it,” Chibs growled, pushing him back. Jax had to catch himself on his hands, watching in awe as Chibs started to stroke him, still wearing his soft leather gloves, warm from the ride.

His touch caused him to clench down again, and his hands gripped at the sheets as he whined, burning taking over his sensations, reaching every nerve in his body. His face felt hot and he turned his head to the side, trying to muffle his noises against his shoulder, but he couldn’t focus, couldn’t stay still.

“Let me hear you,” Chibs said. He was looking up at him, watching him, eyes intense as he stroked him. His touch wasn’t gentle, and he made no move to take off his glove or use the lube Jax knew he had, but Jax knew that wasn’t the point. He wanted Jax to feel it, get lost in it.

It was so easy to give in.

Sounds started pouring from his lips. Wordless begging, pleading sounds. Moans that turned into pathetic mewling noises as the burning stopped him from losing himself in the pleasure. In the back of his mind, he could hear the familiar noises of the club house, of people talking and moving and laughing, but he couldn’t make himself care if they heard him or not. He just wanted Chibs to hear him.

Each time he got close to the edge, his body bore down on the plug, and the pain flared up, putting itself first. He started to rock his hips in time with Chibs’ movements, aching for release. His hand felt so good, and he wanted it so bad, but the burning interrupted the building heat each time, stopped him from reaching what he needed.

Jax pulled in a shaking breath, the air hitching in his throat, and he shook his head, confused. Warmth started to collect around his eyes and he felt wetness start to streak down his face, marking his cheeks. He only realized he was crying when he heard Chibs say, “Shh, love. You can take it.”

His skin felt like it was on fire, embarrassment building to humiliation as the feeling inside him kept hold of his raw nerves. Jax squirmed, trying desperately to pull away, escape the overwhelming feeling, but the intense sensations kept Jax trapped in his own body. Chibs’ continued to stroke him, his other hand firm on his hip, holding him steady.

Choked sobs pulsed through his frame. Chibs hushed him gently, working him through it, making him feel every moment. He gasped in air, his mouth hanging open, moaning with every spare breath he had.

Suddenly, the burning had subsided just enough that Jax could feel his pressure peak, and he cried out with a shudder. He came hard against his chest in thick streaks, his arms shaking so bad they threatened to collapse underneath him, and he pleaded loudly, “I can’t, I can’t, fuck!” He shifted, trying to get away from Chibs’ hand, but he worked him through his orgasm, teasing him until he had nothing left to give, and he only pulled back when Jax’s arms gave out beneath him.

Jax fell back against the bed and gasped helplessly for breath, his own voice still ringing in his ears as his cum cooled on his chest, his shirt already sticking to him with sweat. His face was wet with tears, and he could only breath through his mouth, grateful for every breath he managed to get.

“See?” said Chibs, patting his knee and standing up with a grin. “I told you you’d get me back.”


	7. Club Property

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jax gets his tongue pierced on a drunken whim, but it might be infected. Somehow that's still a turn on for Tig.

Jax was more than a little drunk when he got his tongue pierced. It seemed fun and funny at the time, people joked about how it helped you give better head, and it was something to do on a Saturday night. The next morning, his tongue felt thick in his mouth and he couldn’t remember anything past the neon light on the front door of the piercing parlor.

His tongue throbbed in time with his head-pounding hangover. Jax spent the day between his bed and the bathroom, coming out for a couple hours in the evening to half-heartedly hand out beers and wipe down the bar. No one came looking for him, and for once Jax was glad, heading back to his bed for an early night in hopes it would bring him relief.

After resting for most of the day, Jax found himself tossing and turning in bed until his sheets twisted into ropes and threatened to cut off his circulation. He couldn’t stop knocking his new piercing against his teeth in his mouth, despite the sharp pain that accompanied the action. Eventually, blissfully, sleep welcomed him.

The next morning, Jax woke up shivering.

He stumbled out of bed and climbed into the shower. The only warm part of his body was his tongue, which felt oddly hot and swollen in his mouth. He scrubbed the sleep from his eyes and washed his hair thoroughly, giving the water time to warm him all the way through.

When he got out of the shower, he resisted the urge to climb back into bed and instead pulled on jeans and a t-shirt, the fabric catching on his damp skin. He grabbed an oversized hoodie, pulling it on and shoving his hands in the pocket to keep them warm.

His limbs felt heavy and uncooperative, but he slowly worked his way through his list of jobs, starting with the obvious disaster of the bathroom and moving his way out through the club house. By the time he finished mopping the bar area, he was sweating, and he wandered outside for company.

It was a Monday morning, and things were pretty quiet. Jax had to head into the garage to find anyone, a couple of mechanics working with the guys hanging out, helping out in bits and pieces. The first person to notice Jax was Tig, who sauntered over to him in his old work shirt.

“What happened to you?” Tig asked, offering Jax the butt of his smoke.

Jax took the stub, taking the last puff before he stubbed it out against the concrete wall and tossed it into the coffee tin ashtray. His words were clumsy when he replied, “Don’t ask.”

“Aw, baby,” Tig said, his tone a mockery of concern. “Someone turn you down? You need something to do with that pretty little mouth of yours?”

Jax groaned, pushing off from the wall and walking further into the garage, trying to lose Tig in the swarm of people. Tig followed after him like a dog with a bone. “Lay off. I got my tongue pierced and I think it got fucked up. I have to go see about getting it taken out or something.”

Tig put his hand on Jax’s shoulder, and when he turned around to look at him, his face was lit up like it was Christmas morning. Keeping his grip firm, he walked Jax back into the corner of the garage, lodging him between a work bench and an old metal cabinet. “Let me see.”

“Fuck off,” Jax said easily, shaking his head a little, knowing full well it was not that easy to get rid of Tig.

He reached out and cupped Jax’s jaw, moving his hand up to press against his forehead for a moment before shifting back to his jaw, his calloused fingers rough against the just-shaved smooth skin. “I think you have a fever. You feel cold? Hot?”

“Bit of both,” Jax mumbled, trying not to enjoy the gentle touch too much, knowing it would never last.

“Let me see,” Tig said again, reaching out with his thumb and pressing at his chin, trying to encourage his mouth open. Jax clenched his teeth together, stubbornly. “Hey, come on, I’ve had piercings before. Let me tell you if you gotta take it out or not."

In lieu of a better solution, Jax opened his mouth for Tig, pushing out his tongue slightly. He watched Tig smirk as he gripped his chin, turning his head from side to side to get a better look at it until Jax pulled away and closed his mouth again.

“Tease,” Tig said. His voice had an edge to it, and when Jax looked into his eyes, he saw determination turning the familiar pale blue into ice. Behind him, everyone else was more or less hard at work, chatting idly, the oldies rock station playing from the crackling old stereo in the middle of the shop.

Tig brushed his thumb over Jax’s bottom lip, tilting his head to the side. “Come on, baby, no one’s really paying attention. Why don’t you let me enjoy that before it’s gone?"

Jax shook his head, losing his conviction quickly under Tig’s honeyed words. It was always easier to convince himself something or someone was a good idea when it had been a couple days without company, when that lonely little ache settled in his stomach. Still, Jax reminded himself, it was the middle of the morning, and there were at least ten other people in the garage. None of them were customers, though.

“Please?” Tig said, and Jax felt his willpower crumbling. Tig leaned forward and pressed his forehead to Jax’s. His skin felt slightly cool against him, and he could smell Tig’s cheap cigarettes and morning coffee.

“Here?” Jax asked weakly, his final defense.

Tig reached down and started unbuckling his belt, nodding slowly, licking his lips. “It’ll feel so good, and no one can really see you. Please, baby?”

Part of Jax wished Tig would just shove him down, but instead he waited patiently for him to get down on his knees on his own, watching him with a smug little grin as he pulled himself out of his briefs. One hand reached out and grabbed a handful of Jax’s hair, tangled and wet from his shower, and he pulled him closer.

“Say ahh,” Tig said, bumping the head of his cock against Jax’s pink lips, and Jax opened his mouth for him, let him push into his mouth slowly. He reached out and replaced Tig’s hand with his own. Tig kept pushing forward from his hips, but at least Jax could stop him before he went too deep. The weight of his cock on the piercing was uncomfortable, a pinpoint of pain that dragged across the underside of Tig’s cock.

Tig didn’t waste any time. He moved his hand and got a proper grip on the back of Jax’s head, his hair tangling in Tig’s rings, as he started to fuck Jax’s mouth. For once, Tig wasn’t trying to push himself down the back of his throat, focusing instead of the nub of metal near the tip of his tongue, rubbing the ridge of his cock over the piercing again and again.

Despite the situation, Jax felt a chill down his spine, and his fingers and ears felt cold in the air, though warmth radiated from his mouth. His tongue felt too big, swelled up and sore, the area around the spot of metal aching while the piercing itself was a lightning rod for sharp twinges every time Tig thrust against it.

It hurt, but that only seemed to urge Tig on.

Jax could hear Tig talking to him, voice low but not quiet enough to be private in the public space. “Look at you. Could barely wait to get on your knees.” Jax fought to ignore his words, but they shot through to the core of him, echoed in his ears. “My dirty little slut, you couldn’t even keep your mouth clean for a couple of days. You just want to be filled up, don’t you, baby?”

Though Jax knew Tig’s body blocked him from most of the garage, he felt like all eyes were on him as Tig continued to fuck his mouth, spit wetting down his chin as he pushed in with shallow thrusts, aiming his cock towards the metal ball.

Jax whimpered, just slightly, the pain building up from the repeated motion, pulling and pushing against the jewelry, rubbing it against the swollen area surrounding it.

“Fuck. You’re drooling all over me, you want it so bad,” Tig said with a grunt, his movements sharp. Jax knew him well enough to know he was getting close, and he squeezed his eyes shut, ignoring the threat of tears that prickled at the edges of his eyes. “Filthy little hole.”

Tig groaned, squeezing painfully at the hair in his grip as he finished in his mouth, rocking into him in a stilted pace as he spilled every last drop into Jax’s waiting mouth. The salty taste of his cum mixed with the coppery taste of blood, and Jax screwed up his face, pulling away so he could spit.

Before he could manage, Tig tilted his head up with the grasp he had on his hair, grabbing his chin with his free hand and holding his mouth shut. When he spoke this time, it was just for Jax. “Swallow, or I’ll fuck it down your throat.”

Jax couldn’t even shake his head in his grasp, and he forced himself to swallow. It was thick in his throat and he could feel it go down, the sensation almost making him gag. If he didn’t think Tig would like that too, he might not have tried so hard to keep it down.

Tig took half a step back, tucking himself in his jeans and doing up his belt. Jax blinked and looked behind him into the garage. There were a couple of glances in his direction, but for the most part the guys were pointedly ignoring the scene in the corner, which almost made it worse.

Like it made sense for Jax to be there, on his knees, a ready mouth for anyone who needed it.

“You should get that checked out,” Tig said with a click of his tongue before he turned away. Jax watched him walk away, smacking Lowell upside the head for staring at Tig, his mouth gaping open. “He’s not for you, idiot. Club property.”


	8. Going Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jax ends up in his mother's old house and walks in on Clay doing something unexpected. It only takes a little coaxing to get him to help.

It had been a couple years since Jax had gone home. He wasn’t really avoiding it, he just had no reason to go there. His house, his mom’s house. She wasn’t there anymore. It was Clay’s house now.

Jax came up the familiar street and parked a couple houses away. He eased himself off his bike and took off his helmet, cradling it in his hands as he slowly walked to the house. He never meant to drive there, he never meant to park, to walk up the driveway.

He never meant to open the door to the kitchen.

The house felt wrong. Where were the chirps from a bird in the background? Where was the smell of a casserole in the oven? All he could smell was dust. It looked the same, everything looked the same, but it was wrong.

He walked in, leaving his helmet on the kitchen table. He made his way through the dining room, into the heart of the house. He felt the floor under his feet and he dragged his fingers along the walls, but he still couldn’t really believe he was there.

Clay was in the master bedroom, sitting at the end of his mother’s bed. He was holding a syringe in one shaking hand, and Jax reached out suddenly, pushing the door open and slamming it against the wall.

“Fuck!” Clay said, jumping up. Jax was staring down the barrel of a gun that hadn’t been there a moment ago, blinking just once at the sharp movement. “Jesus, kid, what the fuck are you doing here?”

“What the fuck is that?” Jax said, ignoring the gun that Clay was slowly lowering, gesturing towards the full syringe left on the bedsheets.

“None of your business,” Clay said roughly. He took a step and put the gun down on a dresser, rubbing at his forehead. He looked tired. “What are you doing here?”

Jax walked over to the bed. Beside the syringe was a small, black kit. It looked official, and the bottle had a label from the pharmacy on it. He looked back at Clay. “You can’t be sick.” It was a demand.

“I’ll tell you what it is if you keep your mouth shut and help me with it,” Clay said at last, turning around to face him. He leaned back against the dresser. Always in control of the situation. Jax nodded. “It’s for my hands, so I can keep riding. Arthritis is killing my grip.”

Jax had to clench his jaw to keep himself from speaking. If Clay couldn’t ride, he was out of the club. If he was out of the club, Jax was on his own.

“Hey, hey,” Clay said, snapping his fingers in front of his face. Jax’s eyes snapped up. “It’s fine. It’s not a problem. Now go wash your hands so you can help me with this.”

Memory led him to the bathroom. He rolled up his sleeves and washed his hands. When he finished, he reached out for a hand towel that wasn’t there anymore, and ended up drying his hands on his jeans as he walked back to the bedroom.

Clay was sitting down on the end of the bed again. Jax walked over to him, slowly. Clay handed him the syringe and Jax knelt down in front of him. “How do I do this?”

“Stick it in, right here, push in the plunger, pull it out,” Clay growled, gesturing to a spot between his knuckles on his right hand. When Jax didn’t move, he grabbed his hand, guiding the needle to the spot he just pointed out. “Come on, you can do that much.”

Jax stared at the spot on his hand as he pushed the tip of the needle into his skin, pushing the plunger in until it was flush against the syringe. He paused for a moment before he pulled it back, watching as a dot of blood appeared where the needle had been. Jax was still holding Clay’s hand steady, and he reached out with his thumb, brushed away the evidence of Clay’s vulnerability.

“Breathe, kid,” Clay said, voice rough and tired, reaching out with his other hand to grab Jax on the back of his neck. Jax pulled in a shaky breath, his whole body moving as he filled his aching lungs.

Clay was his keeper, a man who could barely stand to look at him most days. Jax knew he would never have his approval, he wasn’t built for that, but he tried so hard to be useful.

On his knees, with Clay’s hand on the back of his neck, there was only one thing he wanted to do.

Instead, he reached out, taking the hand he had just injected. He started to rub at it with his thumbs, massaging over his knuckles, his joints, careful and methodical. Clay didn’t pull away, so when he was done with that, he turned his hand over and started to work at his palm, rubbing circles into the pad under his thumb, the part that always ached a bit after Jax rode for too long.

Clay groaned slightly, and Jax let his eyes flash up for just a second, just long enough to see Clay had his eyes closed. He turned his focus back to the task at hand, until he felt the hand on the back of his neck move. He braced himself, but Clay simply switched out the hand that Jax had a hold of.

Jax dutifully began rubbing out his left hand, trying to match his movements. Silence reigned, and Jax felt his knees start to ache. He felt a flush across his face, his chest, and he didn’t want to have to move, but he knew he couldn’t drag out the moment much longer.

When he felt Clay start to pull his hand away, Jax tightened his grip slightly. He felt Clay’s eyes burning a hole into him but he refused to look up. He bowed his head down, pulling in a long, slow breath as he rested his cheek against Clay’s open palm, the rough skin warm from his ministrations.

“Fuck,” Clay said. Jax recognized the disappointment in his tone, the distaste.

Jax’s head ached and he felt his blood pulsing in his ears. He moved slightly, let his lips drag across the palm of Clay’s hand before he tried to wrap his lips around his first two fingers, push his mouth around them.

In an instant, the back of Clay’s hand snapped against his cheek, knocking him back from where he was settled on his knees. His face burned and he felt his hands shaking as he took in panting breaths.

“Sorry,” Jax said as soon as he could form the word, shaking his head a little. He forced a laugh. “Fuck, I’m sorry, that was so fucking weird. My bad.” He held up his hands and laughed again, pushing himself away from Clay with his feet so he could stand up.

“Just… get outta here,” Clay said.

Jax nodded, his feet slightly unstable underneath him, pins and needles prickling at his legs. He wanted to look at Clay, but he didn’t want to make the situation any worse, so he just ducked his head and left, following his trail backwards through the house, almost missing his helmet on the way out.

When Jax saw Clay the next day, his shoulders tensed up and he tongued at the inside of his cheek, but Clay acted like everything was normal and so Jax followed suit.

Six months later, Clay walked into his bedroom like he owned it and shoved the same black kit into his hands. He pointed his finger in his face and said, “No weird shit this time.”

“Yessir.”


End file.
